/ 

' 


THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


THE 


OF 


LOS 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 
ANGELES 


PEARL. 


PEARL. 


A   CENTENNIAL   POEM 


BY 

EMMA    MAY    BUCKINGHAM, 

AUTHOR   OF  "  A  SELF-MADE   WOMAN." 


1  All  love  is  sweet — given  or  returned. 
Common  as  light  is  love, 
And  its  familiar  voice 
Wearies  not  ever." — SHELLEY. 


NEW    YORK: 
S.    R.    WELLS    &    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS, 

737     BROADWAY. 
l877. 


COPYRIGHT,    1877,   BY 

E.    M.    BUCKINGHAM, 


EDWARD  O    JENKINS, 
FRITTER   AND   STEREOTYPJER, 
20  NORTH  WILLIAM  ST.,  N.  Y. 


T° 


ALL  WHO  HAVE  ENCOURAGED  ME  TO  PERSEVERE  IN  MY 
LITERARY  LABORS, 


THIS      VOLUME. 


759431 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

PEARL  MALLEY      ,     • 9 

PAUL  LEIGHTON n 

A  SUMMER 13 

PEARL 15 

PAUL ....  17 

No  LETTERS 19 

LULENA 21 

TIDINGS 23 

A  RETROSPECT 27 

AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS 29 

HER  COMMENT 33 

PEARL'S  ANSWER 35 

OLD  LETTERS 39 

THE  REASON  WHY 43 

WINTER 47 

COMPANY 51 

THE  RECEPTION 55 

A  PROPOSITION           57 

THE  JOURNEY 59 

(vii) 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PEARL'S  CONCLUSION 61 

IN  THE  ART  GALLERY 65 

A  MEETING         ....               ...  69 

EARL  EDWARD 73 

To  PEARL 75 

To  PAUL 77 

MORNING 79 

AT  LAST  81 


I. 

PEARL    MALLEY. 

"  '  THE  world  is  a  sea  of  snow-white  daisies, 

I  walk  knee-deep  in  the  level  tide ; 
Slowly  I  wade,  and  the  fragrant  billows 
Part  at  my  coming  on  either  side, 

"  '  Make  me  a  path  through  their  lovely  sweetness, 

See,  in  my  wake,  like  a  track  of  foam, 
Pallid  they  lie  with  their  fair  heads  drooping, 
Sadly  marking  my  pathway  home.'  " 

*    Sang  the  fair  "  Margari6,  Pearl  of  the  Valley," 

Margaret  Malley,  a  girl  of  sixteen, 
Heiress  of  all  the  rich  lands  of  Lord  Malley, 
"  Pride  of  the  Hall,"  where  she  reigned  like  a 
queen — 

Trilling  so  sweetly  the  beautiful  numbers, 
Culling  the  blossoming  plants  by  the  way ; 

Plucking  the  berries  that  crimson'd  the  meadows ; 
Fairer  than  gold-hearted  daisies,  or  day. 

(9) 


IO  PEARL. 

Cheeks  on  which  lilies  and  roses  contended  ; 

Recklessly  wantoned  the  breeze  with  her  hair, 
Tresses,  with  hazel  and  amber  gleams  blended  ; 

Eyes  brown  and  lovely,  a  brow  wide  and  fair. 

Even  her  walk  was  perfection  of  motion  ; 

Lithe  was  her  form  as  the  willows  that  dream 
Over  the  streamlet  that  hastes  to  the  ocean, — 

Thoughts  pure  as  lilies  that  float  on  the  stream. 

Sorrow  and  pain  were  unknown  to  Pearl  Malley  ; 
Never  was  bobolink  freer  from  care  ; 

Love   and    Dame    Fortune — the    Elves  of  the 

Valley- 
Guarded  her  childhood  and  girlhood  so  fair. 

No  fancies  idle,  of  love  or  of  lover, 

Stirred  the  calm  deeps*of  her  nature  serene, 
Either,   while    wading    through    pink -hooded 

clover,  . 

Or  the  sweet  ferns,  'neath  the  Park's  leafy 
screen. 


II. 

PAUL    LEIGHTON. 

STRETCHED  on  the  fern-tufted  bank  of  the  lakelet, 
Sketching  the  shadows  in  idle  delight, 

Tracing  the  delicate  veins  of  the  leaflet, 
Building  air-castles  as  roomy,  as  bright 

As  mansions  of  bliss  in  Foe's  distant  Aidenn — 
Leighton,  the  famous  young  artist,  for  hours 

'Waiting  the  tardy  return  of  the  maiden — 

"A  Hebe,"  he  called  her,  "  crowned  with  June 
flowers." 

"  Ah,  Lady  Margaret !     Give  me  kind  greeting ! 

Can   it   be    Pearl  ? "    and   the   laughing   eyes 

gleamed ; 
"  Dear  little  Margarie !     Of  this,  our  meeting, 

While  I  was  absent,  how  often  I  dreamed  ! " 

"  Pearl,  I  have  come  to  the  Hall,  for  the  season ; 
Your  father  and    mine   are   old    schoolmates. 
You  see 


12  PEARL. 

They've  sent  me  to  find  you — this  is  the  reason 
I  recognized  you  as  the  child  Margarie, 

"  Whom,  ten  years  agone,  I  petted  and  fondled. 
Pearl,  how  you  laughed — when  the  tall,  awk 
ward  boy 

Gave  you  a  ride  on  his  shoulder,  or  trundled 
Your  wee,  baby-carriage — and  shouted  for  joy." 

Blushes  as  red  as  the  lush,  wild  strawberry 

Stained  her  pure  cheek  as  she  held  out  her 

hand ; 

Bright  was  her  welcoming  smile  ;  glad  and  merry, 
And  sweet  her  young  voice,  the  words  at  com 
mand. 

Thus,  did  she  graciously  welcome  Paul  Leighton 
There  'neath  the  shade  of  the  lindens  so  tall ; 

And,  while  he  talked,  how  her  face  flushed  and 

brightened ; 
Beautiful  Margaret,  queen  of  the  Hall. 


III. 

A    SUMMER. 

OH,  what  a  summer  of  bloom  and  of  beauty ! 

Couleiir  de  rose  was  earth,  ocean,  and  air, 
Ay,  a  new  Eden  ;  and  love  was  but  duty ; 

Never  was  season  to  lovers  as  fair. 

Day    after    day,    through    the    sweet    summer 
weather, 

Over  the  Manor  they  strolled  side  by  side ; 
Sat  by  the  ocean,  for  long  hours  together, 

Watching  the  ebbing  and  incoming  tide. 

Paul,  in  the  gloaming,  new  songs  kindly  taught 
her; 

Paul,  in  art  studies,  directed  her  mind ; 
Read  the  best  poems  to  father  and  daughter ; 

Never  was  brother  or  teacher  more  kind. 

"  Sit  for  your  portrait,"  he  said,  "  my  Queen  Mar- 

g'ret ; 
Or  to  the  terrace,  come,  dear  Lady  Pearl, 

(13) 


I  PEARL. 

And  study  the  clouds,"  or  "rare  golden  sunset," 
But  Paul  only  studied  the  gold  of  her  curls. 

Oh,  what  a  dream  of  sweet  love  to  the  maiden ! 

Never  had  lover  a  treasure  so  rare  ; 
Surely,  to  love  was  the  soul's  destined  Aidenn ; 

Never  to  youth  looked  the  future  more  fair ! 

But,  the  dear  summer  gave  place  to  October, 
Monarch  so  haughty,  so  heartless  and  bold ; 

Trailing  o'er  meadows  his  robes  brown  and  sober , 
Painting  the  forests  with  crimson  and  gold. 

And,  with  the  season,  their  bright  dream  was  over ; 

Back  to  her  studies  Pearl  Malley  had  fled ; 
Paul  was,  again,  in  the  Old  World  a  rover, 

Sighing  for  days  that  forever  were  dead. 


IV. 
PEARL. 

GONE  without  saying  "  good-night !  " 
Gone  with  the  summer  so  blest ; 

Gone  with  my  girl-heart  so  light — 
Gone  with  his  love  unconfessed. 

Oh,  had  he  bade  me  "  good-bye  !  " 
Or,  in  warm  clasp,  held  my  hand  ; 

And,  with  kind  words,  or  a  sigh, 
Made  my  torn  heart  understand 

LOVE  urged  him  longer  to  stay, 
But,  the  stern  Fates  bade  him  go ; 

That  Duty  brooked  no  delay — 
I  could  have  borne  it,  I  know. 

Though  I  must  crush  this  first  grief — 
Death  of  my  love  and  my  youth — 

Still,  it  will  be  some  relief 

From  him  to  hear  all  the  truth. 

(15) 


i6 

For,  such  a  tender  "  good-bye  " 
Soon  he  will  write  me,  I'm  sure, 

That,  through  long  years  I  shall  try 
Patiently,  all  to  endure. 


V. 
PAUL. 

YES,  the  summer  dream  is  over ; 

Back  to  study,  work,  and  care ; 
Back  to  wed  Lulena  Snover 

Tall,  and  dark,  with  midnight  hair ; 

Flashing  eyes,  whose  dusky  splendor 
Soon  will  pierce  my  secret  through  ; 

Though  I  play  the  lover  tender, 
She  will  read  my  eyes  untrue. 

Oh,  to  hold  my  brown-eyed  beauty 
For  one  moment  to  my  heart ! 

Oh,  to  kiss  her  lips !  but  duty 
Bids  me  hastily  depart. 

Bids  me  go  like  thief  at  midnight — 
Steal  away  before  the  day — 

Fearful  that  her  smile  and  daylight 
Will  persuade  me  still  to  stay. 

('7) 


1 8  PEARL. 

To  sweet  Pearl,  I'll  write  a  letter, 
Show  her  all  my  sad,  sad  heart ; 

And,  convince  the  child,  'tis  better 
That  thus  suddenly  we  part. 

Or,  a  message  I  will  send  her ; 

For,  she  knows  no  more  of  love 
Than  the  stars,  whose  dreamy  splendor 

Calmly  lights  the  sea  above. 

True  and  artless  is  Pearl  Malley, 
Pure  her  life,  from  care  as  free 

As  the  lilies  of  the  valley, 
Or  the  daisies  on  the  lea. 

I  have  sought  to  win  her  never ; 

Did  not  mean  to  give  her  pain ; 
But,  to  Lulu,  all  endeavor 

To  be  true,  has  been  in  vain. 

Yes,  my  summer  idyl's  over — 
Dream  of  bliss  too  sweet  to  last — 

I  will  wed  Lulena  Snover 
And  redeem  my  fickle  Past. 


VI. 
NO    LETTERS. 

WRESTLING  alone  with  my  sorrow ; 

Weary  of  friends  and  home  ; 
Hoping,  in  vain,  that  the  morrow 

Letters  will  bring  from  Rome. 

Veiling  my  anguish  and  smiling 
Gayly  when  friends  are  near ; 

Memory  often  beguiling 
With  music  once  so  dear. 

Avoiding  the  "  Woodbine  Bowers," 
"  The  Ramble  "  in  the  dell ; 

Paul's  favorite  books  and  flowers, 
The  songs  he  loved  so  well — 

Colors  and  games,  once  a  pleasure 

To  us,  aside  I've  laid 
As  they  fold  away  the  treasures 

And  garments  of  the  dead. 

(19) 


2O 


PEARL. 


Silently,  patiently  hiding 
My  grief  from  all  at  home  ; 

Wearily  waiting  for  tidings — 
Longing  abroad  to  roam. 


VII. 
LULENA. 

I'VE  wedded  the  peerless  Lulena, 

But,  in  our  luxurious  home 
In  view  of  the  ruined  arena 

Where  Gladiators  of  old  Rome 
Once  fought  with  wild  beasts,  I  am  waging 

A  conflict  e'en  fiercer  than  they ; 
Or  even  the  fiery  floods  raging 

In  yon  tireless  crater  to-day. 

Lulena  molds  deftly  in  plaster 

And  chisels  from  marble,  so  cold, 
Such  breathing  creations  her  masters 

Must  look  to  their  laurels  of  old. 
As  grand  as  the  Psyches  she  fashions, 

As  cold  as  her  Junos  of  clay  ; 
"  Loves  Art  with  wild  fervor  and  passion — • 

A  queen  among  women,"  they  say. 

As  wise  as  Aspasia's  Lulena, 
Or  yet,  as  the  fair  Zobeide  ; 


22  PEARL. 

Gifts  rare  as  De  Stael's  grand  Corinna 
Of  mind,  not  of  heart,  has  my  bride. 

A  war  with  my  love  and  my  duty 
I'm  waging  to-day — ah,  Lulene  ! 

Your  genius,  proud  name,  fame  and  beauty, 
I'd  barter  for  Pearl,  my  soul's  queen. 

For,  when  amid  ruins  we  dally — 

Or  Vatican's  art  treasures  old, 
Instead  of  my  bride,  'tis  Pearl  Malley 

With  tresses  of  amber  and  gold, 
Anear.     Or,  beneath  the  acacias 

On  blooming  Campagna  I  see 
Thy  brown  eyes,  Oh,  queen  of  the  daisies ! 

Tho'  Lulu's  are  smiling  on  me. 

The  hair  I  caress  with  glad  seeming, 

The  lips  that  by  mine  are  oft  pressed ; 
Are  Lulene's ;  yet,  in  fancy,  I'm  dreaming 

With  Margaret's  head  on  my  breast. 
A  lie  I  am  living,  for  hourly 

Her  face,  young  and  sweet,  comes  between 
My  own  and  my  bride's — God  forgive  me 

For  loving  her  more  than  Lulene  ! 


VIII. 
TIDINGS. 

YES,  I  see,  I  have  made  a  mistake ; 

That  Paul  never  has  loved  me,  I  own ; 
What  an  error  for  maiden  to  make ! 

Yet  the  fault  was  not  his — mine  alone. 
I  am  sadder,  I  ween,  than  poor  Eve 

When  she  tearfully  heard  the  command : 
"  Thou  this  beautiful  garden  must  leave ;  " 

And  with  Adam  went  out  hand  in  hand. 

For,  his  love  went  with  Eve,  when  exiled 

From  the  bowers  of  "  Eden  the  Blest ;  " 
It  illumined  the  deserts  so  wild — 

Pain  was  pleasure,  and  labor  sweet  rest. 
No  more  desolate,  dreary,  and  dark 

Looked  the  sea-covered  world  to  the  eight 
Sailing  over  the  flood  in  the  Ark 

Than  to  me  looks  my  own  loveless  fate. 

Though  the  homes,  that  once  gladdened  their 

lives, 
With  their  dead,  lay  beneath  oceans  vast ; 

(23) 


PEARL. 

They  were  blessed  with  their  husbands  and 
wives, 

And  with  pleasure,  remembered  the  past. 
Ah,  how  weak  the  romances  have  proved ! 

When  compared  with  my  own,  how  inane ; 
All  their  heroines  love,  are  beloved — 

Ever  true  to  each  other  remain. 

By  Leander,  young  Hero  was  loved  ; 

With  Pyramus,  fair  Thisbe  was  blest ; 
Juliet  and  Romeo — unmoved 

I  can  read — for  I  covet  their  rest. 

Even  lost  Eurydice,  I've  read, 

Was  beloved  by  Orpheus,  the  brave, 

For  he  entered  the  "  Shades  of  the  Dead" 
To  redeem  her  from  Death  and  the  grave. 

Oh,  my  dream  was  too  precious  to  last ! 

I  must  waken  and  bury  my  dead  ; 
God  forgive  me  for  dalliance  past 

With  my  grief,  and  the  joys  that  have  fled ! 

I  will  put  this  deep  sorrow  away, 
And,  with  laughter,  my  agony  hide ; 

For  Paul  Leighton  is  married,  they  say, 
To  Lulena,  a  proud  Southern  bride. 


TIDINGS. 

I  will  strangle  my  weakness  and  pain, 

Gay  and  happy  endeavor  to  be  ; 
Though,  the  future,  oh,  never  again 

May  the  sweet  bells  of  hope  ring  for  me  ! 
And,  to-morrow,  I'll  journey  from  home 

With  my  father,  remote  lands  to  see  ; 
Where,  for  years,  we  shall  probably  roam — 

For  the  Hall  is  distasteful  to  me. 


IX. 

A    RETROSPECT. 

YES,  seven  years  have  passed  away — 

It  seems  a  century,  to-day, 

Since,  looking  backward,  through  the  years 

Of  sun  and  shade,  of  joy  or  tears, 

I  see  a  far-off  rosy  June 

With  Nature's  voices  all  in  tune. 

A  maiden  dancing  o'er  the  lea — 
A  snow-white,  fragrant,  blooming  sea — 
And,  through  that  golden  summer,  rife 
With  bliss  that  comes  but  once  in  life, 
I  hear  her  footsteps,  light  as  air, 
Her  youthful  voice  so  free  from  care ; 

Then,  joyous  laughter  floats  away 
Into  the  misty  autumn  gray, 
Full  soon,  a  grief,  too  deep  for  tears, 
Threatens  to  darken  all  her  years ; 
Till  He,  who  calmed  the  stormy  sea, 
Gives  peace  of  mind  to  Margarie. 

(27) 


28  PEARL. 

Then,  years  of  travel  hurry  past — 
Years  fraught  with  culture,  till,  at  last, 
Weary  of  study,  absence,  change, 
Of  suitors  too — who  think  it  strange 
"  The  lovely  heiress  " — "  child  of  song  " — 
"  Remains  in  single  bliss  so  long;  " 

With  joy  she  turns  like  Noah's  dove, 
And  seeks  home's  restful  Ark  of  love. 
There,  cheering  her  loved  sire  with  song, 
She  finds  the  joys  departed  long 
From  olden  haunts  and  wildwood  bowers, 
And,  lives  again,  with  birds  and  flowers. 


X. 

AFTER    SEVEN    YEARS. 

THE  wintry  wind  moans  in  the  pines, 
The  snow  sifts  through  the  trellised  vines, 
Across  the  porch,  the  dead  leaves  fall, 
And,  o'er  the  threshold  of  the  Hall ; 
While,  in  the  distance,  Leighton  sees 
An  open  grave,  beneath  the  trees. 

Within  a  chamber  white  and  cold, 

A  shrouded  form — withered  and  old 

The  face,  but  filled  with  heaven's  peace, 

As  thankful  for  the  soul's  release. 

The  pain  Lord  Malley  many  years 

Has  borne,  is  o'er.     What  room  for  tears  ? 

Yet,  mutely,  sadly  standing  there 
Tearless  and  pale,  her  curling  hair 
Enveloping,  like  wavy  gold, 
Her  form — clad  in  the  sable  folds 
Of  mourning,  mockery  grief, 
Sad  outward  garb,  and  no  relief; 

(29) 


PEARL. 

The  Lady  Pearl,  the  last  of  all 
The  Malleys  of  this  ancient  Hall — 
Where  ancestors  their  wassail  songs 
Had  sung,  a  century  agone, 
He  sees — but  grown  more  fair  and  tall 
Is  "  Margaret,  Queen  of  the  Hall." 

Soon  by  her  side,  she  saw  him  stand 
Smiling  and  holding  out  his  hand, 
As  famishing  for  look  or  word 
Of  kindness. 

"  Margaret,  I  heard 
The  heavy  tidings  on  my  way 
To  visit  him.     Give  welcome,  pray." 
"  My  father  loved  him — for  his  sake 
His  child,  again  Paul's  hand  will  take  ;  " 
She  thought,  and  said  :  "  Ah,  truant  Paul ! 
For  his  sake,  welcome  to  the  Hall." 
Cold  as  the  corse,  the  hand  she  gave, 
Formal  and  few  her  words,  and  grave, 
Then  silently  she  kissed  her  dead 
And  turned  away,  with  noiseless  tread, 
And  left  the  artist  standing  there 
In  mute  surprise,  almost  despair. 
Yes,  anger  fierce,  to  think  that  she 
Should  treat  him  thus,  so  cruelly. 

Paul,  at  a  later  hour,  that  day, 
When  all  she  loved  was  laid  away 


AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS. 

Beneath  the  beeches,  grand  and  tall, 
Which  stood  like  sentries  near  the  Hall, 
Wrote,  for  she  would  not  see  him :  "  Fair, 
'  Queen  Margaret/ 

Oh,  Pearl  most  rare 
Of  womankind  !     I've  come,  at  last — 
To  win  your  love — redeem  the  past. 


"  My  wife  in  classic  Rome  to-night 
Sleeps  'neath  the  flowers  and  skies  so  bright. 
Two  years  ago,  I  laid  her  there 
With  tears  of  penitence — a  prayer 
To  God  that,  in  the  far  Unknown, 
She  might  forgive  me.     Pearl,  I  own 

"  I  did  not  love  my  gifted  wife, 
Yet  strove  to  make  her  wedded  life 
A  happy  one. 

Lulena  cared 

Alone  for  art.     Her  father  shared 
Her  confidence.     Both  won  a  name — 
Lived  less  for  love  or  home  than  FAME. 

"  Her  works  of  sculpture  grace  to-day 
The  palaces  of  Rome.     They  say 

'  Rome's  lost  her  brightest  genius  ; '  yet 
I  loved  her  not. 

Dear  Margaret, 


PEARL. 

My  home  is  lonely.     Come  to  me 
And  bless  my  life,  sweet  Margarie. 

"  I  marvel,  nature  richly  blest 
As  yours,  can  find  true  pleasure — rest 
In  friendship. 

Pearl,  it  can  not  be  ! 
Please  answer 

Yours,  impatiently." 


XI. 
HER  COMMENT. 

Men  think,  like  ripened  fruits  on  boughs  unshaken, 
Our  love  is  waiting. 

They're  oft  mistaken ! 


XII. 

PEARL'S    ANSWER. 

You  have  marveled  what  pleasure,  what  true  hap 
piness 

Mere  friendship  can  give  to  a  woman  like  me  ; 
Or,  one  fitted  to  taste  the  delirious  bliss 

Of  loving,  perhaps  being  loved,  tenderly  ? 

You  remember  my  joy  on  a  balmy  June  eve 
In  days  long  ago,  as  we  sat  by  the  sea, 

Sang  and  studied  the  sunset  ?     I  never  will  grieve 
If  hours  of  such  happiness  oft  come  to  me. 

Paul,  have  you  forgotten  that  fair  summer  day 
We  rode  through  the  dreamy  old  forest  so  free  ? 

Did  we  envy  the  happy  wood-robins  their  lay, 
As  we  climbed  the   steep  cliffs  hand  in  hand  ? 
To  me 

'Twas  a  joy  more  complete  than  my  senses  had 

known. 

I  dreamed  not  of  love ;  knew  the  hour  could  not 
last  ; 

(35) 


36  PEARL. 

That  our  paths  would  diverge,  that  again  I,  alone, 
Must  climb  those  bald  cliffs  as  I  had  in  the  past. 

And  one  night,  while  we  sailed  o'er  the  moonlighted 

bay, 

You  whispered,  so  softly,  these  words  in  my  ear — 
Ah,  they  thrill  my  soul  yet  ! — "  Pearl,  my  darling, 

alway 
I'll  keep  in  remembrance  my  pupil  so  dear." 

Still,  forgot  we,  ere  golden  October  had  fled  ; 

Then,  phantom-like  Doubt  tore  the  thin  veil  away 
From  my  heart,  that  so  long,  aye,  so  gladly,  had  fed 

On  poor  husks  of  friendship  I  offer  to-day. 

"  She  was  cold,  could  not  love,"  you  have  said  of 

the  dead 

Lulena — and,  Leighton,  perhaps  it  was  true — 
But  you  know  there's  a  mountain  called   Hecla, 

whose  head 
Is  wrapped  in  a  hood  of  perpetual  snow. 

Far  below  that  cold  mask  do  they  find  ice  and  snow  ? 

Or  lava  floods  surging  and  seething,  alone  ? 
Paul,  some  women  are  Heclas ;    God  help  them  ! 

for  oh, 

Their  hearts  cry  for  bread,  yet  receive  but  "  a 
stone  /" 


PEARLS  ANSWER. 


37 


No.     To  take  for  my  king,  for  my  guiding  star  here, 

A  nature  as  weak,  or  more  fickle  than  mine, 
'Twould  blot  out   sun   and   moon  from   my  sky, 

bright  and  clear, 
And  make  life  a  burden. 

Adieu.     Ever  thine. 


XIII. 
OLD     LETTERS. 

THE  clock  is  striking  from  the  tower, 
The  time  is  "midnight's  holy  hour." 

Alone,  beside  her  desk  she  stands, 
An  open  letter  in  her  hands, 

And  reads,  while  tears  bedim  her  eyes  : 
"  Dear  Margari6  :  "  oh,  glad  surprise  ! 

"  Before  I  go  away  again, 
I'll  cowardly  allow  my  pen 

"  To  tell  you  how  a  vulture  tears 
My  heart  to-night  with  grief.     Two  years 

"  Ago,  I  met,  in  lovely  Rome, 
Lulena  Snover,  in  her  home 

"  Of  taste  and  wealth  and  art  combined  ; 
An  Artist's  home,  where  mind  met  mind. 

(39) 


4O  PEARL. 

"  There,  in  that  happy  atmosphere 
Of  music,  flowers,  and  pictures  rare, 

"  Helped  by  her  father's  patronage 
My  poor  attempts  became  the  rage. 

"  '  Lulena's  portrait  you  must  try/ 
Her  father  said,  '  and,  by-the-by, 

"  '  The  dear  girl  chooses  you,'  said  he, 
'  Of  all  the  artists  here,  you  see.' 

"  Lulena's  picture  grew  apace, 

From  out  the  canvas  gleamed  a  face 

"  As  full  of  pride,  passion,  and  power, 
As  Juno's  ;  and,  O,  evil  hour  ! 

"  (She  is  my  senior  years  full  ten) 
I  sought  this  paragon  again. 

"  I  won  Lulene,  and  thought  with  pride 
That  I  could  love  my  artist  bride, 

"  Dearer  than  aught  in  life  or  art  ; 
But,  Pearl,  I  did  not  know  my  heart. 

"  My  health  was  failing.     Northern  air 
And  rest  from  labor,  thought,  and  care 


OLD  LETTERS.  4 

"  I  found,  and,  with  them — ah,  too  late  ! 
My  life's  ideal.     Cruel  fate  ! 

"  Sweet  Margarie,  my  pearl  most  fair, 
I  love  you.     Child,  your  waving  hair 

"  Is  dearer  far  than  Lulu's  gold — 
Her  genius,  fame,  and  beauty  cold. 

"  Alas,  in  honor  I  am  bound 
To  wed  Lulene  !     A  grief  profound 

"  Is  mine  to-night.     Adieu — but  yet, 
Believe  me,  lovely  Margaret, 

"  If  I  to  win  your  love  were  free, 
To  kiss  your  cheeks,  sweet  Margari6, 

"  And  watch  their  color  come  and  go, 
Like  roses  on  a  bank  of  snow, 

"  And  hold  your  dainty  hand  in  mine, 
'Twould  be  a  joy  almost  divine. 

"  But  Fate  divides  us.     Angels  bright 
Guard  all  your  future.     Pearl,  good-night  ! 

"  I  dare  not  trust  my  fickle  heart 
To  say  '  Good-bye,'  before  we  part ; 


PEARL. 

11  Yet  while  I  live,  a  golden  dream 
These  dear,  dead  summer  days  will  seem. 

"  Your  gift  of  daisies,  pure  and  white, 
Sweet  Marguerites,  plucked  to-night 

"  By  you,  a  souvenir  till  death 
I'll  keep,  and  kiss  with  latest  breath." 


XIV. 
THE    REASON   WHY. 

THE  Lady  Pearl  for  all  the  seven  years, 
Kissed  it,  and  laid  it  by  with  falling  tears  ; 

Then,  from  another  yellow  paper,  read  : 
"  My  Daughter  Margaret : — Last  night  Paul  said  : 

"  '  Dear  Earl,  pray  give  this  parting  note  to  Pearl 
As  soon  as  I  have  gone  away.     Sweet  girl, 

"  '  I  know  she'll  mourn  my  absence,  for  an  hour, 
Then  turn,  with  girlish  zest,  to  book  and  flower 

"  '  For  pleasure  ;  while,  in  haste,  alas  !  I  fly 
From  her  enchantments  dear.     My  Lord,  good 
bye!' 

"  He  wrung  my  hand  again,  with  grief  sincere, 
And  quickly  left  the  Hall.     A  sudden  fear — 

(43) 


44  PEARL. 

''  I  beg  your  pardon,  child — made  it  seem  best 
That  you  should  think  him  cruel  till  the  last ; 

"  Hoping  his  cold  neglect  would  quickly  prove 
An  antidote  to  this,  your  fancied  love. 

"  May  lover  come  not  till  a  far-off  day 
To  steal  my  Pearl,  my  darling  Queen,  away." 

Yes,  though  full  seven  years  had  drifted  by 
Since  both  were  penned,  Pearl  gave  this  joyous 

cry: 

"  Dear  God,  I  thank  Thee  !     At  this  distant  day 
Paul  does  not  know  I  threw  my  heart  away  !  " 

And  with  this  knowledge  came  the  olden  joy, 
Her  youthful  faith  unmixed  with  Doubt's  alloy. 

"  To-morrow  morn  I'll  lay  my  pride  aside — 
Obey  my  heart — and  tell  him  that  his  bride 

"  I'd  rather  be,  than  sit  upon  a  throne 
And  rule  the  WORLD.     My  new-born  love  will 
own," 

She  said,  with  burning  blushes,  streaming  eyes, 
Then  read  the  missives  o'er  with  new  surprise. 


THE  REASON  WHY.  45 

The  morning  came  at  last.     She  found  that  Paul, 
Without  adieux,  at  dawn,  had  left  the  Hall. 

"  My  faith  and  penitence  have  come  too  late  ; 
I've  killed  his  love  !  "  she  said.     Ah,  cruel  fate  ! 


XV. 
A    WINTER. 

WEARILY,  slowly,  the  days  crept  along ; 
No  gayety,  laughter,  music,  or  song 
Enlivened  the  Hall  that  whole  winter  long. 

Snow  drifted  over  the  graves  in  the  Park, 
Still  was  the  Hall  as  a  vault  and  as  dark  ; 
Yet,  to  its  mistress,  a  sheltering  ark. 

Margaret,  wrapped  in  a  sorrowful  dream, 
White  and  as  mute  as  the  statues  that  gleam 
Life-like  and  pure  'mid  the  trees  in  the  sheen 

Of  silvery  moonbeams.  Closed  was  the  Hall 
To  neighbors  and  friends,  acquaintances,  all ; 
For  Feeling  seemed  numb — Hope  under  a  pall. 

(47) 


48  PEARL. 

Life  was  a  meaningless  void.     Day  and  night 
On  sorrow  and  death — her  love's  early  blight — 
Dwelt  her  lone  heart,  once  so  joyous  and  light. 

She  dreaded  the  future,  sighed  for  the  past ; 
Lived  in  the  days  that,  for  her,  could  not  last ! 
Unheeding  the  present,  flying  so  fast. 

Oh,  had  her  dear,  dead  young  mother  from  o'er 
The  river  of  Death,  its  echoless  shore, 
Beheld  sweet  Margaret  Malley  once  more  ; 

Pitying  tears  would  have  fallen,  I  know  ; 
If  angels  can  weep  for  sorrows  below ; 
Or  for  Niobes  whose  tears  can  not  flow. 

You've  seen  the  sun  set  in  the  sea,  I  trow  ; 

Or  into  an  ocean  of  mist  sink  low, 

And  old  Night  swoop  down  over  all  below  ? 

Stretch  his  still  dark  wings  o'er  the  land  so  bright 
Of  late,  and  Day  fade  into  darksome  night  ? 
Well,  so  had  Joy's  sunshine  taken  its  flight ! 

Since,  from  the  Hall  had  journeyed  far  away 
The  artist ;  in  her  thoughts  both  night  and  day, 
The  letter  found  had  lived — a  sacred  lay. 


A    WINTER. 

Ah,  this  so-called  love  is  a  mystery 
Strange  and  fathomless,  as  is  life  to  me, 
Or  the  endless  years  of  eternity. 

Thus,  like  daily  tides  and  the  sun's  red  gold, 
Is  my  story  new  to  the  young,  but  old 
To  many — ay,  e'en  like  a  tale  twice  told. 


49 


XVI. 
COMPANY. 

WITH. hawthorn  bloom  and  birds  of  May 
The  Countess  of  Allaine  one  day 

Came  with  her  son  Allaine's  proud  Earl, 
She  said,  to  cheer  the  Lady  Pearl. 

"  Have  just  returned  from  France,  my  dear, 
Where  we  have  been  almost  a  year. 

"  That  you  are  lonely,  child,  we  hear ; 
You  know  we  both  are  friends  sincere ;  " 

She  said,  and,  with  a  close  embrace, 
Rained  kisses  on  the  orphan's  face. 

Pearl's  mother,  born  in  far-off  Maine, 
Niece  of  the  late  Earl  of  Allaine, 

Child  of  his  only  sister,  fair 
And  stately  Lady  Alice  Blair, 

(Si) 


PEARL. 

Who,  on  New  England's  surf-washed  shore 
Had  found  a  grave,  long  years  before. 

At  his  request  the  orphaned  May 
To  "  Merry  England  "  far  away 

Went  to  the  Earl,  her  uncle.     He 
Called  her  a  sacred  legacy. 

Her  governess,  Rose  Lee,  a  true 
New  England  girl,  went  with  her,  too, 

To  find  a  home — and  not  in  vain — 
For,  soon  the  kind  Earl  of  Allaine 

Wedded  the  governess ;  and  plain 
Rose  Lee  became  Lady  Allaine. 

Yet,  ever  after,  strange  to  say, 
Remained  a  friend  to  lovely  May; 

Rejoiced  with  all  a  mother's  pride 
When  May  became  Lord  Malley's  bride ; 

And  shed  most  bitter  tears  the  day 
Pearl's  mother  passed  from  earth  away ; 

And  vowed :  "  Sweet  child  !  dear  motherless ! 
With  my  maternal  love  I'll  bless, 


COMPANY. 

"  And  wed  thee  to  my  son  and  heir." 
Disinterested  lady  (!)     "  Fair 

Queen  Margaret  "  to  London  went 
Last  year.     To  their  dull  parlors  lent 

Her  lovely  presence.     Lord  Allaine, 
Heir  to  the  late  Earl's  vast  domain, 

Sought  the  young  heiress ;  but,  with  pain, 
Acknowledged  he  had  wooed  in  vain  ; 

Still,  more  enamored  grew,  and  sighed : 
"  This  jewel  yet  shall  be  my  bride." 


53 


XVII. 
THE    RECEPTION. 

WELL,  Pearl  received  her  friends  with  joyless  mien 
And  smileless  face,  yet  grand  in  its  repose 

As  sweet  day  lilies  sleeping,  cold,  serene 
As  petals  of  an  ice-imprisoned  rose. 

"  More  like  a  statue  of  herself,  than  Pearl, 
Or  sleeper,  moving  in  the  moon-ray's  gleam," 

The  Countess  sadly  thought,  "  than  the  sweet  girl 
Who  last  year  graced  my  soirees."  "  Do  I  dream  ?  " 

Sighed  Lord  Allaine,  and  quickly  looked  away 
To  hide  his  deep  surprise ;  then  mutely  pressed 

Her  unresponsive  fingers,  longed  to  say : — 
"  Oh,  frozen  Daisy,  come  to  me  and  rest !  " 

"  This  portly  Earl  Allaine,  with  pompous  air, 
Chin  dimpled,  brow  too  low  for  genius — kind 

Blue  eyes,  flushed  face,  blonde  mustache,  tawny  hair; 
With  lips  too  full  for  feelings  quite  refined, 

(55) 


56  PEARL. 

"  Or  tastes  aesthetic  ;  has  a  heart  as  kind 
And  tender  as  a  woman's.     He  would  prove 

As  true  as  gold  to  one,  who  with  a  blind, 

Unshrinking  faith,  could  give  him  love  for  love, 

"  And  hand  for  heart ;  "  instinctively  his  fair 
Young  hostess  thought,  shuddered,  then  led  the 
way 

To  parlors  filled  with  light  and  perfumed  air, 
Bright  with  anemones  ;  exotics  gay, — 

Where  ferns  and  ivies  in  rare  vases,  clung 

Or  twined  themselves  in  graceful  beauty  round 

Choice  paintings,  marble  goddesses,  and  hung 
From  bronzes  rich,  and  chalices  gold-bound, 

And  silken  lambrequins,  and  laces  rare 

Artistically  draped,  or  drawn  aside, 
To  let  the  sunshine  and  the  sweet  May  air 

Bless  blooming  plants ;  of  late,  her  care  and  pride. 


XVIII. 
A    PROPOSITION. 

THE  Countess  soon  declared  that  it  was  wrong 
For  her  dear  kins-woman  thus  to  immure 

Herself  within  the  grand  old  Hall  so  long; 
And  strove,  with  thoughts  of  travel,  to  allure 

Her  mind  from  sorrow.    Then  proposed  that  she 
With  her  should  cross  the  ocean — while  away 

The  summer  in  Columbia,  and  see 

The  grand  Centennial.     From  day  to  day 

Talked  of  the  Exposition, — dwelt  with  pride 
On  the  improvements  which  a  century 

Had  wrought, — of  ancestors  who  fought,  ay,  died, 
In  gloomy  forests,  for  sweet  Liberty. 

"  Yes,  Edward,  I've  been  loyal  to  the  Queen — 

Your  father  too  !    Through  all  my  wedded  years 

Have  scarcely  dreamed  of  home.   Yet,  olden  scenes 

Come  back,  to-night,  and  move  my  heart  to  tears. 

(57) 


58  PEARL. 

"  I've  been  an  exile  over  thirty  years 

From  friends  and  haunts  so  loved  in  early  days, 
I  long  to  see  my  Boston  home — the  dear 

Old  South  Church  where,  so  oft,  in  songs  ot 
praise 

"  I  joined  my  young  companions,  long  ago. 

And,  Pearl,  your  grandmother,  the  Lady  Blair, 
Lies  in  her  lonesome  grave  in  Maine.     I  know 
You'll  visit  it.     The  Earl  erected  there 

"  A  monument  which  cost  a  thousand  pounds. 

I  well  remember  when  she  died ;  how  May, 
Your  darling  mother,  flung  her  arms  around 
My  neck,  and  begged  me  not  to  go  away. 

"  But  I  am  growing  garrulous,  I  know — 

I  beg  your  pardon,  child — but  promise  me 
That  to  this  Exposition  you  will  go, 

With  Edward  and  myself,  across  the  sea." 


XVIX. 
THE    JOURNEY. 

PEARL  promised,  and,  in  June,  'mid  storm  and  cloud, 
They  sailed  across  Atlantic's  bosom  wide — 

First  visited  New  England's  cities  proud, 

Then  saw  Mount  Washington  in  all  his  pride. 

Admired  the  perfect  scenery  around, 

Sailed  on  St.  Lawrence  past  the  "  Thousand  Isles," 
Soon  stood  with  rapt  delight,  and  gazed,  spell-bound, 

Upon  sublime  Niagara  the  while. 

Saw  Canada — the  Lakes — the  South  ;  rode  days 
O'er  prairies  green.     A  thousand  miles,  or  more, 

Sailed  on  the  Mississippi.     Steamed  away 
Across  the  Continent.     The  golden  shore 

Of  far  Pacific  reached, — then,  much  amazed 

Plucked  lush,  ripe  grapes  from  purple  vineyards 

there. 

Went  to  Yosemite,  with  wonder  gazed 
Upon  the  Bridal  Vail,  the  clear  blue  air 

(59) 


60  PEARL. 

And  mountain  scenery,  sublimely  grand  ; 

Where  snow-crowned  summits  kiss  the  clouds,  rise 

high 
Peak  above  peak — then  sought  the  magic  land 

Of  mammoth  trees  whose  branches  cleave  the  sky. 

They  journeyed  eastward.     In  the  autumn  days 
Reached  the  Centennial.     Lady  Allaine 

And  titled  son  were  lavish  in  their  praise — • 
Said  : — "  To  describe  it  all,  is  quite  in  vain  !  " 

"  All  expectation  it  exceeds.     To  see 

This  Exposition,  dearest  Margaret, 
Through  life  a  pleasant  memory  will  be  ; 

To  miss  it,  but  a  lifetime  of  regret !  " 

The  grounds  with  foliage  and  flowers  were  gay ; 

Skies  never  brighter  seemed.     From  morn  till 

night 
The  three,  like  children  on  a  holiday, 

Examined  works  of  art  with  strange  delight. 


XX. 
PEARL'S    CONCLUSION. 

PEARL  hourly  grew  more  cheerful 

As  the  summer  days  waxed  long ; 
Her  pallid  lips,  eyes  tearful, 

Gave  place  to  smile  and  song. 
With  health's  warm  roses,  burning 

Once  again  on  cheeks  of  snow, 
Came  spirits  gay,  returning 

Fraught  with  all  their  olden  glow. 

Lady  Allaine  was  hopeful, 

Thought,  with  true  maternal  pride, 
"  The  Earl  will  be  successful ; 

He  will  win  his  chosen  bride." 
Lord  Edward  was  but  human, 

He  believed  his  lordly  hand 
Worthy  the  sweetest  woman 

Whom  he  knew  in  all  the  land. 

But,  at  the  Exhibition, 

Pearl  seemed  far  more  sad  than  gay ; 

(61) 


62  PEARL. 

For  art  her  old  ambition 

Would  return,  then  die  away. 

At  times,  when  fancy  painted 
All  the  lonesome,  loveless  years 

To  come,  her  tried  heart  fainted, 
Though  she  still  repressed  her  tears, 

And  thought,  with  strange  emotion, 
»  Lips  and  cheeks  of  ashen  hue, 
"  For  Lord  Allaine's  devotion 

Some  reward  is  surely  due. 
Yet,  for  his  love  so  tender, 

True  respect  and  friendship  kind 
Are  all  that  I  can  render. 

Well,  'tis  said  that  '  Love  is  blind.' 

"  That,  two  classes  of  lovers 

Wise  experience  has  proved, 
Are  found  the  whole  world  over — 

'  Those  who  love  and  those  beloved.1 
Although  my  heart  can  never 

All  alone  to  him  be  given  ; 
Or,  such  a  marriage  ever 

Quite  be  blessed  to  me  of  heaven. 

"  Perhaps,  'tis  best  to  sever 

All  connection  with  my  past, 
The  Earl  wed,  and  endeavor 
To  find  peace  and  rest  at  last." 


PEARL  S  CONCL  USION. 

Alas,  this  sage  conclusion 

Filled  her  heart  and  mind  with  pain  ; 
She  thought,  with  strange  confusion, 

"To  myself  Y\\  true  remain." 

"Although  earth-ties,  affections, 

Yes,  husband  and  children  dear 
And  all  love's  sweet  protection 

Are  through  life  denied  me  here ; 
I'll  find  enough  of  beauty 

Still,  in  Nature,  books,  and  art 
To  cheer  me  on  in  duty, 

Help  me  act  a  Christian's  part." 

Again,  two  careless  lovers 

Walking  arm  in  arm  along, 
Or  young  and  happy  mother 

Who,  in  all  that  surging  throng 
Of  moving  human  beings, 

Saw  alone  her  baby's  face, 
She  met — or  ydung  bride  seeing 

Smile  and  blush,  with  timid  grace 

Receive,  in  glad  contentment, 

Words  of  praise,  attentions  kind, — 
"  Oh,  Fates  !  this  sweet  enchantment 
Once  again  fling  'round  my  mind," 


64  PEARL. 

Sighed  Pearl.     "  Ah,  to  be  treated 
Thus,  with  tenderness  alway ! 

My  wants  anticipated 

With  such  loving  care.     Each  day 


"  Attentions  kind  receiving, 

Cheered  by  jest  and  laughter  light, 
Is  better,  far,  than  grieving 

O'er  my  perished  hopes.     'Tis  right 
That  I  my  dead  should  bury, 

Bid  my  gloomy  thoughts  adieu, 
And,  kind  Lord  Edward  marry, 

For  his  love  is  warm  and  true." 


XXI. 
IN    ART    GALLERY. 

WITHIN  the  Art  Department,  hour  by  hour, 
With  Earl  Allaine  ever  beside  her  chair, 
The  Lady  Margaret,  in  dire  dismay, 
Listened  to  whispered  comments  on  the  rare 
Vases  and  paintings,  statues,  tapestry, 
And  rich  mosaics  in  the  Gallery. 

He  talked  of  the  exhibits  from  abroad, 
Contrasted  works  of  foreign  art  and  ours 
With  such  a  painful  lack  of  culture,  taste, 
Of  fine  discrimination,  knowledge,  power, 
That  his  companion  bit  her  rosy  lips 
With  chagrin  and  disgust,  I  am  afraid  ; 
Then  turned  away  her  face,  in  vain,  to  hide 
The  burning  blushes  dyeing  neck  and  brow, 
Called  there  by  criticisms,  quite  unfair, 
Upon  the  statuary  gathered  there. 
Then,  suddenly,  "  Look  at  this  picture  !"  cried 
The  Earl ;  "  'tis  very  finely  done,  indeed  ! 
I  met  the  artist  once,  five  years  ago 
In  Rome ;  was  in  his  studio,  and  saw 
This  very  painting  there  ;  unfinished  then." 

(65) 


66  PEARL. 

She  looked  in  silence,  but  his  words  recalled 
From  out  the  hidden  crypts  of  buried  hopes, 
Features  which  she  contrasted  mentally 
With  her  companion's  heavy,  florid  face. 
Saw  Paul  (a  very  prince  amongst  the  men 
Whom  she  had  met  abroad,  also  at  home), 
With  keenest  ear  for  music,  eye  for  art, 
Love  for  esthetics,  and  soul  all  alert 
With  power  to  understand,  appreciate 
All  nature  ;  and  capacities  so  great 
For  loving  the  sublime  and  beautiful. 
His  bearing  elegant — a  soul-lit  face 
So  eloquent  with  feeling,  grand  with  thought ; 
A  noble  forehead  crowned  with  midnight  hair, 
And  eyes  so  dark  and  glorious,  when  fired 
By  genius,  love,  or  sympathy.     Lips  proud, 
But  delicate.     A  sweet  and  winning  smile. 
Contrasted  well  his  face  with  Earl  Allaine's — 
A  lump  of  coarser  clay — though  kind  and  true, 
The  animal  predominating  there, 
O'ershadowing  both  intellect  and  soul. 
"  The  contrast  is  too  great  between  the  Earl 
And  artist,"  sadly  mused  the  Lady  Pearl. 

That  night  she  dreamed  of  Paul.    So  vivid  seemed 
The  vision,  that  the  morning's  rosy  rays 
Could  not  dispel  his  image  from  her  thoughts. 
His  presence  permeated  all  the  air. 
If  there  are  brain  waves,  surely  this  was  one. 
Is  there  an  atmosphere  around  each  soul 


IN  AR T  CALLER  Y.  67 

Like  that  enveloping  our  earth  ?     Or  have 

The  parts  we  call  immortal — soul  and  mind, 

Surrounding  antennae  invisible  ? 

Or  strange  electric  currents,  sensitive 

To  slightest  contact  with  the  sentient  waves 

Of  brain  enveloping  approaching  friends, 

Sending  a  thrill  of  strange  expectancy, 

Of  feeling  like  a  rising  tidal  wave, 

Or  longing  to  behold  the  face  and  form 

Of  one  we  love,  submerging  Reason  quite  ; 

Making  us  dream,  foreshadowing  events 

To  come,  until  we  blindly  stretch  our  arms — 

These  antennae  of  soul  and  sense — to  kiss 

And  fold  the  unseen  living  presence  dear 

In  an  embrace  sweeter  than  sense  of  touch, 

Causing  a  thrill  of  rapture,  or  of  pain, 

Or  terrible  suspense  ?     The  startling,  keen 

Impression  that  Calamity  is  near, 

Which  comes  to  us,  at  times,  in  sleeping  hours, 

But  quite  as  often  in  our  waking  dreams? 

Or  are  we  warned  by  angels?     Do  they  touch 

Us  with  their  spirit  hands  invisible  ? 

Or  whisper  in  our  ears  predictions  true  ? 

Oh,  learned  students  in  psychology, 

Or,  sage  philosophers,  pray  answer  me ! 


XXII. 
A    MEETING. 

THEY  were  strolling  one  day  in  the  Park,  side  by 

side, 
"  Dearest  Pearl,"  said  the  Earl, "  I  am  waiting  to 

hear 
From  your  lips  life  or  death  to  my  hopes — be  my 

bride — 

Cheer  and  brighten  my  home  with  your  presence 
so  dear. 

"  The  Countess,  my  good  mother,  loves  you  like  a 

child, 
My  first,  last,  only  LOVE;   let  me  call  you  'my 

PEARL,'  " 
But,  withdrawing  her   hand,   Lady  Pearl  quickly 

smiled, 

Crimsoned,  and  then  grew  white  as  the  dying. 
The  Earl 

Saw  a  stranger  approaching,  and  felt  that  the  twain 
Had  loved  dearly — their  faces,  instinct  with  new 
life, 

(69) 


70  PEARL. 

Told  him  that  they  loved  still — and,  in  anger  and 

pain, 

He  knew  well  sweet  Pearl  Malley  would  ne'er  be 
his  wife. 

Yet  he  reddened  and  stared,  and  his  eyes  fairly 

burned, 
While  Paul  Leighton  shook  hands  with  the  lady 

again  ; 

(For  Paul  read  in  her  eyes  that  his  love  was  re 
turned). 

When  the  Earl  of  Allaine,  though  the  mildest 
of  men, 

Bowed  with  courtly  politeness   and  held  out  his 

hand, 

For  he  recognized  Paul,  as  an  artist  from  Rome. 
Then  he  said  :  "  Lady  Pearl,"  in  a  tone  of  command, 
"  Come,  the  phaeton's  here ;  we  must  turn  to 
ward  home." 

"  I  will  see  you  to-morrow,"  said  Paul,  as  the  twain 
Bowled  away  through  the  beautiful  Park  in  the 
glow 

Of  the  glorious  sunset.     Pearl  told  Lord  Allaine 
Of  her  love  for  the  artist.     "  I  wish  you  to  know 

Why  I  can  not  be  yours,  my  dear  Cousin  Allaine, 
For  I  owe  you  much  kindly  attention.    For  years 


A  MEETING.  ji 

I  have  tried  to  forget  him — to  love  you — in  vain  ; 
Yet  forgive  me,"  still  urged  her  brown  eyes,  wet 
with  tears. 

"  Will    I    pardon   you  ?      Yes.      'Twas    my   fault. 

Dearest  girl, 
May  your  future  be  peaceful,  your  life  glad  and 

bright ; 
May  God   bless    you   and   keep  you  !      Farewell, 

darling  Pearl, 
For  I  leave  the  '  Centennial  City  '  to-night !  " 


XXIII. 
LORD    EDWARD, 

QUICKLY  fell  the  Countess'  tears 
When  she  found  the  hopes  of  years 

All  had  fled  ; 

But,  the  courtly  Lord  Allaine 
Deftly  hiding  his  heart-pain, 

Quickly  said : 

"  No,  my  mother,  you  must  stay 
Till  you  give  the  bride  away, 

For,  you  know, 
None  will  chaperone  our  dear 
Margaret — a  stranger  here — 

If  you  go? 

"  Yes,  'tis  true,  she  was  my  choice, 
But,  the  Lady  Edith  Boise 

Still  is  free ; 

And,  you  know,  before  she  went 
Last  year,  to  the  Continent, 
Cared  for  me. 

(73) 


74  PEARL. 

"  Though  for  lovely  Pearl,  to-day, 
Sore  in  heart  I  go  away, 

Mother  dear ; 
Lady  Edith  I  may  find, 
If  not  quite  so  fair,  more  kind. 
Dry  your  tears 

"  And,  in  Paris,  I'll  forget, 
If  I  can,  '  Queen  Margaret ' — 

Strive  to  win 

Charming  Edith,  for  my  bride, 

Ere  the  happy  Christmas  tide 

Shall  begin." 

Smile  not,  oh,  my  reader  true ! 
Though,  his  fickleness  to  you 

May  seem  rare ; 
For,  in  real  life,  I  ween, 
Constancy  (?)  like  this  is  seen, 

Critic  fair, 

And,  in  love-life  we  have  found 
Hearts  are  won  in  the  "  re-bound." 

And,  'tis  true, 

One  in  pique  may  win  a  wife, 
But,  alas !  long  years  of  strife 

May  ensue. 


XXIV. 

TO    PEARL. 
PEARL  :— 

If  I've  read  your  eyes  aright  ? 
Wear  these  daisies,  in  the  morning, 
Wavy,  gold-brown  hair  adorning 

With  my  bridal  daisies  white  ; 

Yours,  with  all  Paul's  love ;  Good-night. 


XXV. 

TO    PAUL. 
PAUL  : — 

Marguerites  "  pure  and  white  " — 
"  Bridal  daisies,"  sent  to-night 
With  your  love,  my  life  to  brighten, 
I  will  wear  with  joy,  dear  Leighton. 
Yours,  with  all  Pearl's  love  ;  Good-night. 


XXVI. 


MORNING. 

ALL  thy  rays,  O  Sun,  are  beaming 
With  delight.     Autumnal  flowers 

And  the  tinted  leaves  are  dreaming 
With  a  joy,  new  born.     The  Hours 

Sing  and  laugh — rehearse  the  glory 
O'er  and  o'er  of  Eden  days — 

Earth's  first  lovers — tell  the  story 
To  the  list'ning  Air  ablaze 

With  a  hazy,  mellow  splendor. 

Oh,  these  dreamy  purple  skies, 
Blending  with  the  blue  and  tender 

Mists,  which  from  the  Schuylkill  rise ! 

"  All  the  world  is  full  of  beauty, 

Eden  joys  and  blooming  bowers  ; 
And,  again,  sweet  Love  and  Duty 
Bid  me  wear  these  snowy  flowers. 

(79) 


80  PEARL. 

"  They  recall  the  dear  lost  pleasures 

Of  my  past — its  summer  hours — 
.Somewhere,  still,  among  my  treasures 
Is  a  bunch  of  withered  flowers, 

"  Which,  Paul  wreathed  amid  my  tresses  ; 

Gifts,  my  heart  taught  me  to  prize 
More  than  all  the  Malley  diamonds. 
Far  more  precious  in  my  eyes 

"  Are  these  daisies ;  "  said  her  tender, 

Smiling  lips  of  ruby  hue, 
Sweet,  brown  eyes  with  youthful  splendor 
Beaming.     Joy  to  Pearl  wa,s  new. 


XXVII. 
AT    LAST. 

WHY  repeat  the  old,  old  story 
How  the  twain 

In  the  Autumn's  golden  glory 
Met  again? 

Of  the  voiceless  rapture  filling 
Heart  and  brain, 

Soul  as  well  as  senses  thrilling  ? 
Tongue  and  pen 

Weakly  falter  while  repeating 
Bliss  like  theirs ; 

For,  we  see,  in  such  a  meeting, 
Answered  prayers. 

On  a  glad  November  morning, 

O'er  the  sea, 
Bridal  white  her  form  adorning 

Margarie 

(Si) 


82  PEARL. 

Wedded  Paul  with  joy  bells  ringing 
From  the  tower, 

Round  which  ivy-green  is  clinging, 
Blissful  hour ! 

And,  while  wedding  bells  are  chiming 
With  delight ; 

Reader,  I  will  cease  my  rhyming — 
Say  "  Good-night." 


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